Hypothermia
by alanwolfmoon
Summary: House gets high and ends up trapped on the roof with Foreman. Remarkably stupid in places. old.


"Morning." said House, poking his head in the differential room, "patient?"

"No, not so far." said Cameron.

"Oh. Ok." he left.

Chase and Cameron exchanged glances, a little put off.

An hour later, House poked his head in again.

"Patient?"

"Uh, no. Still no patient." said Chase, blinking.

"Oh." he left again.

This time Foreman participated in the exchange of confused glances.

About thirty minutes after that, House appeared again.

"Still no patient." started Foreman before House could ask, "what's up, Cuddy making you do clinic duty?"

"No." said House, sounding sort of thoughtful, "she's not." he disappeared.

Foreman got up, intrigued, heading out into the hall after House.

When he finally caught up– House was moving surprisingly fast for a cripple– they had made it all the way to the roof, House pushing himself up the stairs slowly and awkwardly. Foreman was a little surprised, he hadn't even known that these stairs were here, and they seemed to go to a different level of the roof than he had been on before.

"House, what's going on?"

House turned around, not having heard Foreman following him.

"What are you doing on the roof?"

Foreman raised his eyebrows.

"What do you think I'm doing on the roof?"

"I don't know, why else would I have asked?"

"I'm following you."

"Why are you doing that? I'm forty seven, not four."

Foreman's eyebrow twitched.

"Ok, what did you take?"

House shrugged.

"Nothing much."

"House, what did you take?"

"Ummm... not telling."

Foreman's eyes widened, as House went to take a step back to adjust the weight on his bad leg, but tripped, arms flailing wildly.

"Ufh." said Foreman, as House landed on top of him.

"Ooww...." groaned House.

"Dude, get off me."

"Leg..."

Foreman, not in a particularly charitable mood, pushed House off.

He curled up, holding his thigh.

Foreman frowned, placing a hand on House's shoulder. The older doctor was trembling.

A gust of wind rippled over them, and Foreman heard a slam. He looked behind him. The door had shut.

Foreman got up, leaving House where he was, and tugged on the handle. It didn't budge.

"Oh shit..." he growled, reaching into his pocket for his cell. He jerked his hand out, as something shocked him. Foreman peered down into his pocket, and saw that his phone was smashed from him falling on it.

"House, gimme your phone. Door's locked and you squashed mine."

House didn't answer.

Foreman rolled his eyes, though more out of frustration at the situation than at annoyance over House's current behavior. The getting high part was all him, but the being curled up in pain... that wasn't really House's fault.

"House, don't yell at me." said Foreman, digging in House's left pant pocket. It was empty. Foreman groaned.

"Ok, look, turn over."

House did nothing.

Foreman sighed. He supposed this could wait until the pain subsided.

Chase looked up, as he heard a electonisized version of a song only House would have as his ringtone.

The slim gray device was buzzing towards the edge of House's desk. Chase and Cameron groaned.

Not only was Foreman now missing, they had no way to contact either of them, Foreman wasn't picking up.

Chase frowned, tilting his head.

"You think they're gay?"

Cameron did not dignify that question with a response.

"House?" asked Foreman wearily, for the eighth time, sitting with his back against the low wall House had nearly fallen over, watching his boss.

For the eighth time, House didn't answer.

Foreman sighed, resting his head on his knees.

Maybe there would be a ten car pile up, and the medi-vac helicopter would see them and tell somebody.

He frowned, at the distant rumble of thunder. It wasn't all that cold now, it was only late October; but if it started raining there would be a danger of hypothermia. Foreman shook his head to himself. They were on the roof of a hospital. He had never heard of someone dying on the roof of a hospital. Eventually somebody would check the security cameras, or House would roll over so Foreman could get at his other pocket.

He sighed again, scrubbing his face with his hands. At least there was a lightning rod...

"Yeah, I don't know where they went, Foreman's not answering his phone, and House left his on his desk."

Cuddy sighed, looking between the two ducklings.

"Ok, ok. Fine, go tell the security guy you got permission."

Cameron thanked her, hurrying out, Chase following less enthusiastically behind. House was probably hiding somewhere, and Foreman had probably gotten bored and left.

Foreman got up, frowning. It had been over twenty minutes, and House was still curled into a ball, tight and trembling.

He placed his hand on his boss's shoulder, shaking it gently.

"House?" he asked, after that got no response.

House made a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper.

Foreman frowned further, carefully pulling House's hands away from his leg.

House's pants were torn, and Foreman could see a large bruise, already purple, starting at the upper edge of House's knee and spreading upwards.

Foreman sighed. No wonder House was so out of it.

"Sorry, I can't help you."

"But we got Cuddy's permission." said Cameron, frowning at the burly head of security.

"Look, I'd like to help, but the system's down. It crashed earlier this morning, I don't know if it even recorded the time you're looking for. Repair guy's supposed to have been here an hour ago."

Cameron sighed, unhappy.

"Thanks anyway."

The guy nodded.

"No problem. Sorry I couldn't help."

Cameron nodded as she left, Chase still trailing unenthusiastically behind.

"Come on House, just roll over, kay?"

House grunted, obviously in too much pain to comply.

Foreman sighed for what had to be the tenth time since the door had slammed shut.

"Ok, fine, just hand me your phone."

"Desk." House ground out, so quietly Foreman almost missed it.

"Oh, perfect. Just perfect."

He blinked, as something wet hit him in the face.

"I was wrong. Now it's perfect."

He looked around the roof, hoping for some kind of shelter. The best he could see was the corner to the far right edge of the level of the roof they were on, the edge of the next highest level rising a good eight feet above them on the upwind side of the corner.

Foreman looked back down at House, and sighed yet again. This was going to be complicated. And painful.

"Hi, Dr. Cameron?"

Cameron and Chase looked up, to see the head of security standing in the door to the differential room.

"Oh. Hi. Did you get the camera system back up?"

"Yeah, and I checked what we got for the time you wanted. It's pretty much just static."

Cameron sighed.

"Ok, well, thanks."

The guy nodded, leaving.

Foreman eventually decided that there was no way House was getting up, much less making it twenty feet to the corner, so he started trying to either drag or carry his mostly unresponsive boss.

House thrashed as his leg was shifted; obviously whatever he had taken that had got them into this mess was still confusing him.

Foreman ignored the increasingly pain-weakened blows, sliding his hands under House's armpits.

He really didn't like what he was doing, it was obviously causing House a great deal of pain, but it was also fairly necessary.

Cameron and Chase probably would have checked the security tapes by now, and since they hadn't come up here it probably wasn't clear where he and House had gone. Which meant it could be hours, even days, before someone happened to come up here for a smoke. If people even came to this part of the roof. Certainly no one was coming up here in the next few hours, it was pouring and windy and there was an occasional flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder. And it really wouldn't do to get hypothermia, especially for House, who was confused enough as it was.

"They're not in the basement." said Chase, joining Cameron as she peeked in every room on the first floor.

They stopped at Cuddy's office, figuring she would probably want to know that two of her employees had actually gone missing.

"Did you check to see if they just went home?" was her only, somewhat uninterested question.

Cameron was turning red.

"Don't you even care that they've gone missing?"

Chase put a hand on Cameron's shoulder before Cuddy could reply.

"Cam, this is House we're talking about. Judging from how he was acting earlier, a sky-high House. Foreman probably just tagged along on whatever crazy thing House was doing to make sure he didn't kill anybody, or more likely, get killed."

Cameron sighed. He had a point.... but why wasn't Foreman answering his phone?

Foreman eventually got House into the corner, mostly due to the older doctor passing out. House was now propped up in the very back of the corner, while Foreman, already soaked, paced around the pebbled surface of the roof. He didn't know why exactly he was feeling so doomed about this, it certainly wasn't something out of _Robinson Crusoe._ They were locked on the roof of a hospital, not stranded on a deserted island.

That still didn't stop him from turning over a broken plastic umbrella he found, so it would catch the rain. Heck, even if they were only out here for a few hours, they still might get thirsty.

He turned around, as he heard a small groan come from the corner House was in.

Foreman knelt, watching his boss twitch and mumble, half awake.

"House?"

House's eyes opened.

"What's going on?" he asked, voice faint.

"We're locked on the roof in a thunderstorm."

House raised his eyebrows.

"How'd that... happen?"

Foreman's eyebrows went as high as House's.

"You don't remember?"

House didn't answer.

"Well, given you were obviously completely high at the time, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised."

"Not... cus of... that..."

Foreman blinked.

"You were high but that's not why you don't remember? You tried to punch me. I think it was probably a factor."

"Factor... not only..."

Foreman frowned. House looked like he was having to struggle to stay conscious.

"Stop talking. Take your vicodin."

House nodded tiredly, digging in his pocket.

Two pills and five minutes later, he had passed out.

Foreman sighed. House hadn't even been all the way lucid with his leg still. There was no way he was going to be able to move it. But Foreman knew from experience that if House *didn't* move it, he would hurt a lot worse.

"It's been four hours, we checked every floor, plus all the parts of the roof you don't need a janitor's key to get to. Foreman's car and House's bike are still in the parking lot."

Cuddy frowned. Maybe they were right, maybe something had happened...

"Well, notify Princeton PD. It's still probably nothing, but call anyway. I'm more worried that Foreman's not answering his phone."

Chase and Cameron nodded, leaving.

Foreman tried to keep his teeth from chattering as he sat, shivering, next to his half conscious boss. House seemed to have fully come down from whatever high he had been on, and was now just out of it because he was in pain.

Foreman glanced at him, noting that, although slightly drier, House was shivering more violently than he was. It made sense, House was thinner, taller, less muscular and more stretched out on the cold concrete.

House groaned suddenly, sliding to the side.

Foreman frowned, having not really expected to ever have House's head leaning on his shoulder.

"House? What's wrong?"

House was shaking harder than he had been before, and he was extremely pale.

Foreman reached around, placing his fingers on House's neck, checking his pulse. It was ridiculously fast.

House slid further, nearly unconscious.

Foreman shut his eyes, sighed, then placed his hands on House's shoulder, starting to push the older doctor back upright.

House let out a loud, pained noise. Foreman stopped moving him, frowning.

House moaned again, shivering and trembling so hard that Foreman felt like he was being leaned upon by a chainsaw motor.

"Where else could they be?" asked Chase, now staring at a makeshift map of the hospital campus that had been drawn on the whiteboard.

Wilson, having finally gotten away from his patients, sighed.

"Anywhere within five hours by public transportation."

Cameron and Chase sighed as well. That included all of new jersey.

"So where do we start?" asked Chase.

Wilson considered for a moment.

"Start with the otb parlor and jogging park, then move on to all the local bars."

"The jogging park?" asked Chase.

"He says it's the last place Cuddy will look."

Foreman frowned, concentrating on his hands. He was shivering just as much as House had been earlier, and his hands were numb. His eyes widened, as he realized his motor function really was diminishing; he couldn't touch his pinky with his thumb. That meant stage two hypothermia. He glanced down at House, still leaning on him. He had stopped shivering. That meant stage three. That meant House was getting close to experiencing what the cancer girl had been put through. Except there were no heating pads on the roof to get House's heart to start again.

Foreman knew it really didn't matter that House would be annoyed at extra contact at this point. He pulled House further on top of him, rubbing his shoulder to try and get him more towards conscious.

House just moaned a little, his leg obviously still causing him agony.

Foreman sighed, covering as much of House's body with his own as was possible.

"Not at the track or the jogging park, and nobody said they'd seen either of them." reported Cameron.

"And we checked all the bars in Princeton. Not all the bars in new jersey though."

Cuddy and Wilson frowned, worried.

"I'd like to think this was just another one of his stupid stunts, but I can't understand why Foreman hasn't answered his phone. It's been six hours..."

Wilson nodded.

"Can we have the phone company track down Foreman's phone?" asked Chase.

Cameron, Cuddy and Wilson looked at him.

"I can't believe we didn't think of that sooner."

Foreman sighed, relived. House had started shivering again, and he himself was feeling a lot warmer. It was stupid that they hadn't done this before, but House hated contact, and Foreman wasn't overly fond of it himself.

"House?"

House mumbled something unintelligible.

Foreman blinked. It was an improvement, at least.

"House, look, you should probably take more vicodin. Seriously."

House grunted.

Foreman took that as a yes, and dug in House's right pocket.

He had some difficulty getting the lid off, but it eventually happened, and he successfully got two pills out without spilling the entire bottle.

"House, open your mouth."

House didn't do anything.

"House, pay attention, open your mouth."

House groaned, opening his eyes instead.

"Open your mouth."

House blinked, miserable and confused.

"Come on, open up." said Foreman, more gently.

House finally did, and Foreman dropped the pills in.

He frowned, as House spluttered, coughing, and spat the pills out.

"House, come on, take your vicodin." said Foreman, awkwardly maneuvering out from under House to get the white ovals. There were only four left in the bottle, and he really didn't want to deal with a detoxing House, on top of a hypothermic House, and a half conscious from pain House.

When he turned back around, House was curled into a loose ball, looking unbelievably pathetic and miserable.

Foreman's annoyed gaze softened a little. House was in a lot of pain, he had to be feeling like crap from the cold, and Foreman was guessing whatever he had been on that morning had left him totally exhausted.

"His phone's out of service. Broken."

"Princeton pd says wait another four hours. If they don't show up by then, they'll start a search."

Cuddy nodded tiredly. She really, really wished she could convince the police otherwise, but she knew that many missing persons reports turned out to be false alarms. She couldn't blame them for doubting that two fully mentally capacitated doctors, one well known for doing weird things, had gotten lost in Princeton New Jersey, where they lived, worked, and spent almost all of their time.

Wilson was pacing the office, looking distraught. He was either going to be relieved to tears if House was found, or so pissed off that he wouldn't talk to the older doctor for a week, if he showed up on his own.

He paused, looking at the two ducklings.

"It's almost midnight, you should get some rest. You too Cuddy."

"But–"

"I'm not going to be able to sleep anyway. I'll wake you up if anything happens."

They all sighed, and nodded.

Cuddy placed a hand on Wilson's shoulder on her way out.

"They're big boys. They can take care of themselves."

Wilson snorted doubtfully.

Foreman finally got House settled again, sitting between Foreman's knees, back against Foreman's chest, head resting on Foreman's shoulder. He was so out of it he didn't even seem to have noticed that he was being basically held like a child; albeit a six foot three child.

he was mumbling again, and Foreman tried to hear what he was saying. It seemed to be something about ****, but Foreman couldn't make out anything of what he was trying to communicate.

Foreman had eventually managed to force House to swallow the two vicodin; not something he had ever imagined doing, and they seemed to be helping some with House's leg.

Foreman frowned, as House started fighting his supportive grasp, as though it were restraining him.

He let go, not about to get House more worked up than he already was. The older doctor sprawled forward, moaning at the movement of his leg, then curled into a trembling ball. Foreman sighed, leaning forward to keep as much contact as possible. He didn't want House to get colder, and therefore more confused.

House jerked away, and Foreman's frown deepened. He had a suspicion that not all of the wet on House's face was rain.

House yelled something unintelligible when Foreman pulled him back upright, struggling in his employee's grip. Foreman didn't let go this time, and instead rubbed softly over House's shoulder, trying to calm him.

"They started the search." said Wilson tiredly, standing in the doorway of the obstetrics lounge, where Cuddy, Cameron and Chase were curled on various couches and recliners.

They all jerked awake at the sound.

"What?" asked Chase, rubbing his eyes.

"They started the search."

Everyone was silent for a moment. It was now official, House and Foreman were missing.

Foreman jerked awake, eyes widening when he realized he should not have fallen asleep, especially with the tendency House was exhibiting to move away from the warmth that was keeping him alive.

He blinked. The rain had stopped. House was curled up between Foreman's knees, leaning against Foreman's chest, his hands tangled in Foreman's shirt.

Foreman rested a hand gently on House's back. He was breathing. Foreman sighed, placing his arms around House's shoulders.

House raised his head, blinking.

"What?" he asked, still an odd thing to say, but more lucid than anything he had said in a while.

"What what? We're locked on the roof of the hospital and we're both hypothermic.

House blinked again.

"Not that. Obvious. What long." he frowned, and Foreman was fairly relieved. House was aware that it didn't make sense. "How long." he corrected, and Foreman sighed. Awake and aware were good, able to realize and correct confusion was even better.

Foreman glanced at his watch.

"Fourteen hours."

House blinked.

"Long."

"Yeah."

Foreman was still worried though. House's odd speech meant he was still in second stage hypothermia, toward the colder end. Foreman was pretty sure he was only at the first stage, and wondered why House was staying so much colder.

"How's your leg?" he asked, figuring he should get as much lucid information out of House as was possible.

"Bad. Hurt." House frowned, apparently frustrated at how simple his sentence had come out, "banged. When fell." he growled to himself, but Foreman really didn't mind. He had understood the question, and gotten the point across.

"I figured. You've got a big bruise."

House nodded, having guessed.

"You should probably take another dose."

House grimaced.

"How left?" he frowned, rolling his eyes.

"Four."

He groaned.

"If yet... not..." House sighed, giving up.

"If they haven't checked up here yet they probably aren't going to?"

House snorted.

"Try should." he muttered.

"What?"

House sighed.

"Sign. Try. Fall." he growled again, obviously very frustrated.

"You mean try and get someone to know we're up here?"

House nodded, then closed his eyes, resting his head on Foreman's shoulder once again.

"Tired..." he mumbled.

"Take your vicodin first."

House's eyes opened again.

"Right."

Foreman held the two pills out in his open hand, and House reached for them. His fingers wouldn't close around them, however, and he sighed.

Foreman placed them in House's mouth, to the latter's frustration and annoyance.

"They found what looked like a broken phone outside the main entrance, but it's so smashed we can't tell if it's Foreman's or not."

Wilson, Chase and Cameron sighed.

"It can't be. They're not anywhere near the hospital." said Cameron.

They all sighed again.

Foreman, peeking over the edge, groaned as he saw them shake their heads.

"They didn't get it." he told House, as he crawled back towards the corner.

House rolled his eyes, holding himself to try and keep warm.

Foreman sat down, a little nervous. It was still cold, they were still wet, and House was now at least mostly lucid.

House didn't make it awkward though, he just leaned back to his former position, a resigned expression on his face.

"What now?" asked Chase, looking defeated.

Cameron glanced at him. He had been getting progressively more upset the entire time, as it became clear something really was going on.

"The police will find them. That's their job, they'll find them."

Chase snorted angrily.

Cameron frowned.

"What? I though Foreman's the one who's got a problem with cops, not you."

"They don't like House. After the tritter thing, I think there's a been lot of resentment."

Cameron sighed.

"It's not like they actually put tritter on their case, they'll find them."

Chase still looked upset.

"Throw?" asked House, ignoring the fact that the majority of his sentence hadn't come out, as Foreman untied House's left shoe.

"No, squeezing the water out of everything. Gonna get frostbite at this rate. We could throw them, but nobody's outside at this temperature to know they came from the roof."

House sighed, rubbing his throat with a cold-numbed hand.

"House?" asked Foreman, and House glanced at him. He was waiting for permission for the right shoe.

House rolled his eyes.

"Rather out. Anyway." House rolled his eyes, but Foreman got what he had meant.

Foreman nodded, clumsily untying the shoe and completely removing the laces before gently easing it off House's leg.

The older doctor tensed, and when Foreman looked back up House was several shades paler than he had been before.

"Sorry."

House shook his head, teeth clenched. Pain was better than losing a toe, especially since walking wasn't exactly his strong suit to begin with.

Foreman very carefully pulled the right sock off, squeezing the water out.

He slid first the left sock back on, then the right.

When he looked up, he immediately regretted not having waited longer between the two movements. House looked like he was going to pass out, his face twisted into a grimace, face white. His hand was outstretched, keeping himself from toppling sideways, but his arm was trembling.

Foreman crawled forward, sitting down next to House, bracing the older doctor. House didn't seem conscious enough to care.

"House?" he asked, surprised. House hadn't been that out of it since it had stopped raining.

"Mmmhnnn...." he moaned weakly, barely more than a long intoned exhale.

Foreman sighed, feeling a little bad for having messed up.

House suddenly tensed, numb muscles tightening, and curled, trembling violently, sliding off Foreman's shoulder onto the ground.

Foreman watched him for a moment, actually stunned by the severity of the pain he had accidentally caused.

House let out a low, shaking moan, barely audible.

Foreman pulled him off the wet, rough surface, bracing him as he shivered and trembled, breath ragged and gasping. What was worse, the vicodin had run out, there was nothing Foreman could do to help. He sat there, arms around his boss's shoulders, wet that wasn't rain dripping onto his wrist, trembling that wasn't his own shaking his body, and wishing that none of this were happening.

Wilson sighed, looking at his watch.

"What?" asked Cuddy, glancing up.

"It's been over twenty four hours now. Wherever they are, they don't have their coats. Even Foreman's labcoat is still in the differential room."

Cuddy sighed, nodding.

"I know, but it's still possible that they're just inside some bar in Trenton or the like. They could still be fine."

"Or they could be dead of hypothermia because they're both too stubborn to cuddle up."

Cuddy glanced at him, looking somewhat upset.

"You know, I'm trying to cheer you up, but you're just making me worry more. I'll stop if it keeps going like this you'll have to go pace with Cameron and Chase. I'm sure they're much more cheery, especially since I think Cameron was crying in her sleep earlier."

Wilson sighed, sitting down.

"Sorry. I just keep seeing the worst things that could be happening, over and over in my head."

Cuddy nodded.

"Me too. Deal with it."

Wilson laughed suddenly, sounding a little strained.

"You sound like House."

Cuddy smiled sadly, getting up.

Wilson jerked upright, as Cuddy's hand rested on his shoulder.

"Calm down. Foreman's perfectly capable, and House is probably saner than he acts."

"Actually I'm pretty sure he's less sane than he acts. Cus he knows if he acted any less sane he'd be carted off to a mental institution."

Cuddy sighed. Wilson was probably right, but it only made her feel less happy about the current situation.

The wet dripping onto Foreman's arm had finally diminished, although a drop or two escaped every few minutes, but House was still barely even breathing, trying to move as little as he possibly could.

Foreman sighed, unclenching his hand from it's grip on the other, placing the stiff fingers on House's neck. He couldn't feel the pulse at all, his fingers were too numb. He rolled his eyes, then stuck them under House's armpit, the warmest easily accessible place he could find.

A few minutes later he pulled them out, placing them on House's neck once again. This time he could feel the surges, and he wasn't very happy with how fast they were. Yes, it meant House wasn't seriously hypothermic, but it also meant he was in a lot of pain.

House mumbled something unintelligible, making Foreman blink. He had though House was past attempting communication at this point.

"What?"

"Tickles..." he murmured, coughing a little.

Foreman frowned.

The last thing they needed was for House to actually get sick, beyond the current hypothermia, pain, and exhaustion.

"Still no word." said Chase, closing his phone after calling the police in hopes of an update.

Cameron sighed, resting her head in the crook of her elbow.

It was worse, now that the police had fully checked all of Princeton, Trenton, and other nearby cities. It meant there was really no more innocent explanation of why the two were gone.

House coughed. Then he coughed again. And again. Then he moaned hoarsely. And coughed again.

Foreman sighed, feeling the spasms of House's coughing against his chest.

House was sick, after all. And, according to the seven word conversation he had managed an hour ago, had been mildly so the day before, hence the large amount of nyquill and amphetamines that had gotten them into this mess in the first place.

It was something of a relief though, that the entire problem had not occurred on House's whim to get high. There had been some usefulness behind the cause, which made Foreman slightly less irritated at House for sticking them here.

House finally stopped coughing, and slumped back, gasping and rubbing his throat.

"House?" asked Foreman.

"Hurts. Everything."

Foreman sighed.

"Hang on. Gotta move."

"Wha?"

"I'd forgotten till now, I turned a broken umbrella upside-down when it was raining."

House gasped when Foreman shifted him.

"Sorry."

"Uhhnnnn..."

Foreman frowned, finding he himself was also stiff, and too crampy to stand. He crawled towards the brilliant pink shape, ignoring the gritty pain in his hands and knees from the rough surface he was crawling on.

House was either passed out or unresponsive when Foreman finally dragged the umbrella to the corner, but he did swallow when Foreman poured some of the water into his mouth. The umbrella hadn't collected much, but it was enough to keep them both alive for maybe half a week.

They were both dry now, but it was colder, and even though it was sunny it was only about thirty degrees out. He sighed, dragging House back on top of him, glad to not hear any protests or sharply inhaled gasps.

"They put out a newscast. Unfortunately it won't show until tomorrow, there's some kid missing, and they put that at a higher priority."

Wilson, Chase and Cameron all sighed.

The options were drying up, they were running out of places to look.

House grunted suddenly, maybe an hour after Foreman had gotten the umbrella.

"What?"

"Achy. Cramps. Vicodin."

Foreman sighed.

Great. Extremely painful injury, hypothermia, cough, and now withdrawal.

Foreman sighed again, as House groaned, obviously uncomfortable.

"They put out the report, the kid turned out to have been picked up by the nanny, who took them out to a fall festival."

Cuddy snorted, far beyond simply being upset.

"It's about time. It's thirty degrees out, and if they're still wet from the rain..."

Wilson sighed.

"All we can do is hope."

Cuddy nodded.

"I hate 'all we can do's. They never seem to end very well."

Wilson sighed again.

"That's in medicine. This is House."

Cuddy smiled a little, nodding.

"He won't let himself die without getting to see you naked."

Cuddy laughed, shaking her head.

House slumped back, face white and a little slimy, now smelling acidic and gross.

"Oh god House, did you have to do it on my shoe?" complained Foreman.

"Ungh..." was House's only reply, as he gasped and coughed, throat and stomach muscles burning.

Foreman rolled his eyes, picked up House's arm, and wiped the older doctor's mouth with the sleeve.

"If you were actually conscious I would be more annoyed..." muttered Foreman, as he let go of House's arm and it flopped straight down, hitting the pebbled concrete with a smack.

Foreman sighed.

Cuddy sighed, watching the newscaster announce a description of House and Foreman, talking over the two pictures Chase and Cameron had managed to dig up from somewhere.

Cameron came in, sitting down next to her.

"They'll be alright."

Cuddy snorted.

"Foreman will be alright. Foreman was with House. They'll be alright."

Cuddy looked at her.

She shrugged.

"House hired him because he had street smarts. I think he can handle getting lost in new jersey."

Cuddy sighed again.

House groaned loudly, as Foreman slowly dragged him out to the middle of the roof. The sun was bright, but it didn't reach the corner they had been in, and they were both still definitely hypothermic.

"Sorry. You need to get warmed up, and that wasn't going to happen in the corner."

"Ngh...."

Foreman sighed, laying House out on the warm surface.

House moaned when Foreman moved his leg, but was too weak to resist.

"Sorry." said Foreman again.

House opened his eyes a little, then shook his head very slightly. He wasn't mad, he just hurt.

"How nauseous are you?"

"Nnn...bad."

Foreman sighed.

"You're going to get dehydrated, at this rate."

House nodded tiredly, eyes drifting shut. The warm felt so nice...

Foreman, for the first time since he had said good morning to Cameron three days ago, smiled a little. For once, it was ok for House to fall asleep.

"At least it's sunny out." commented Chase, pacing back and forth on the balcony House usually occupied.

"Yeah. But it's still windy." said Wilson, standing on his own side of the low wall.

Chase paused for a moment.

"We're talking about the weather."

Wilson blinked.

"Yeah, kinda figured that."

"We're talking about the weather, and it has to do with a matter of life and death. It's just ironic."

Wilson sighed.

"Sorry, but I'm not really in the mood for irony."

Chase shook his head, laughing.

"Neither am I." he said, sinking down to hug his knees, still laughing.

Wilson climbed over the wall, knelt down, and placed his hand on the hysterical blond's shoulder.

"Hey, calm down. It's ok, calm down."

"It's not ok! They could be dead and you say it's ok!?"

Wilson watched Chase begin to cry, wishing he could bring himself to let it out like House's young duckling was. But he couldn't. For some reason, he felt getting emotional about House would be cementing the fact that House wasn't there, influencing him. It was stupid, but that was how he felt.

House coughed, half choking, until Foreman pushed him upright, smacking him on the back.

"Kuh...ow..."

"Sorry." sighed Foreman, wishing the whole stupid thing were over.

"'s kay..." gasped House, making up for the lost breaths.

"You're pathetic..."

House blinked, frowning.

"How's... that?"

"Not your fault, you're just pathetic."

House blinked again, pale, shivering, lying full on the concrete, unable to move.

"You can't... pick the*cough*... lock on the... door. You're the*cough*... one who's path*cough*... pathe*cough*.... pa*cough*..." House broke down, coughing so hard his pale face turned red.

Foreman sighed.

"No, I really think you're the pathetic one right now."

House glared, but the effect was rather ruined by how much his eyes were watering.

Wilson sighed, staring vaguely off into the distance, leaning on his balcony wall. House should be there, on the other side of the low divider, drinking his coffee and ranting about the idiots of the world. But he wasn't. He was who knows where, maybe dead, maybe alive.

He yelped, as something hit him on the head.

He turned around, expecting to see Cuddy about to lecture him for sulking. There was nobody. He looked down. A bright pink, mangled plastic umbrella, with House's cane tied to it by a pair of ipod earphones was now lying forlornly behind him.

"You think they'll revoke their assumptions now?" asked House between heaves.

"I think it has a higher likelihood of working than if you'd puked on his head."

House snorted.

"Hey, he might have gotten it, it wasn't that stupid an idea."

"You just didn't want your cane to get scratched."

House smirked.

"Do you blame me?"

Foreman groaned.

"That is so lame I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear it."

"I'm detoxing, hypothermic, sick, and my leg's killing me. Give a guy some slack..."

Foreman sighed.

"I'll give you some slack when we get off here. Cus then you'll be miserable and I won't."

"I'm not going to..."

Foreman blinked, as House trailed off but didn't throw up.

"House?"

House was silent for a while longer, then he looked at Foreman, meeting his eyes.

"Thanks."

Foreman raised his eyebrows.

"Just saying it now, cus there's nobody else who might hear."

Foreman snorted, but didn't say anything, and nodded.

"If either of us had been up here alone, they would have died."

House nodded, feeling that he owed Foreman at least some seriousness after the last five days.

They both jumped, as a banging sound signaled the opening of the long mourned door.

House and Foreman heard a disappointed sigh, and realized that they were out of their field of view.

"Over here!" called Foreman, but he was too quiet to be heard against the wind.

Neither of them could stand, and House's voice was more raw than Foreman's.

House started gagging, and they heard a startled intake of breath from near the door.

Cameron, Chase, Cuddy and Wilson all stared, watching House heave, and Foreman hold him up so his leg didn't shift.

"I think that I will never think of that sound in the same way again." commented Wilson, squatting in front of the two.

"Why didn't you do anything before now?" asked Cuddy, frowning, pink umbrella and cane in hand.

"Wind was too strong." rasped House.

"We only had one umbrella, one string, and one thing somebody would recognize without any doubt."

"We had to make sure somebody found it, and knew it came from the roof. And didn't shatter or knock somebody out."

Wilson snorted, though he looked utterly relieved.

"So you dropped it on my head."

House shrugged weakly.

"Ask Foreman, he dropped it."

"I was aiming for behind you. Balcony's not that big."

Wilson shook his head, too relieved to be annoyed. It hadn't hurt that much anyway–thanks to the umbrella.

Foreman's gaze alighted on Cameron, who was crying into her hands.

"You do know we're both ok, right?"

"Ok?!" snapped Chase suddenly, surprising everyone except Wilson, "ok would have been if you hadn't been trapped on a roof for five days! Ok would have been if you didn't get stuck out here in twenty degree weather! And thunderstorms! Ok would be if either of you could even move! You're not ok! You're frozen half to death, you can't stand up, you can barely talk, you're both hypothermic, and you should technically be dead by now! YOU'RE NOT OK! WE ALL THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD! YOU'RE NOT OK!"

Everyone was staring at Chase, who was now crying, trembling, shouting, and glaring at his boss and colleague.

Cuddy placed her hands on Chase's shoulders, gently guiding him down, talking softly to him.

Wilson looked back at House and Foreman.

"How'd you two even stay alive this long?"

Foreman shrugged.

"I turned the umbrella upside down during the thunderstorm...." said Foreman evasively.

Wilson's thick eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

"You had to get close to keep warm, huh?" he asked quietly.

House nodded tiredly.

Wilson watched House for a moment, more experienced at judging his relative state of misery than of judging Foreman's.

"We need to get you two inside. Right now."

They both nodded weakly, the adrenaline that had kept them going for the last five days fading into non-existence. It was over. They were found. And very, very uncomfortable.

Chase, making a remarkable recovery, switched into intensivist mode, carefully checking the two over.

Cuddy whistled, and Cameron gasped, when House's pants were cut away from the injured area so Chase could get a better look at the damage to figure out how much care would be needed in transport.

"Ok, I'm guessing that moving before sedation would be a very bad idea."

House nodded, too tired to care how many people were staring at his scar.

Cuddy and Wilson stayed with House as Chase left to get a sedative and some big guys to carry a stretcher down the stairs.

Cameron sat next to Foreman, apparently drinking in the sight of him alive.

"This is the second time. The second time I thought you were inevitably going to die."

Foreman snorted.

"You were wrong both times."

"I noticed." said Cameron wryly.

Foreman grinned.

"What were you on, anyway?" asked Cuddy, taking off her long wool coat and laying it over her least lucky department head.

"Nothing. I was bored, and I was just messing with them. Stupid, but it's the truth."

Foreman glanced over.

"You're lying. You..." Foreman trailed off, as he caught House's expression, "then again, you were hypothermic." he finished.

"No kidding." said House.

Cuddy and Wilson seemed to buy it.

"Ok House." said Chase, arriving with a syringe and two EMT's he had dragged out of the ER to help.

House looked relived. Foreman didn't blame him.

"Hey."

Wilson jerked upright, he had fallen asleep watching his friend.

"Hey..."

"I gotta talk."

Wilson blinked. Since when did House want to talk? Oh, probably since he was this highly sedated.

"Ok, I'm listening."

"I don't get what happened."

"You mean the getting stranded on the roof of the hospital or the having to depend completely on another person, and them actually coming through?"

"Latter."

Wilson smiled.

"That's called how it's supposed to work, House."

"Yeah, but it doesn't."

"It happened though?"

"Yeah."

"Then it does."

"But it doesn't."

Wilson paused. There was a reason he usually didn't try and take advantage of House being sedated, or drunk, or high, or in otherwise lessened states of inhibition. Because he was more immovable than a rhino stuck in quicksand.

"It happened, therefore it could happen, true or false?"

"True."

"It can happen. It should happen. It did happen. Still confused?"

House considered.

"Yeah."

"About what?"

"My entire philosophy being based on the fact it doesn't happen."

Wilson smiled.

"I'm sure your misanthropy will survive intact. Just consider that the next time you're faced with a possibility, that the outcome isn't always bad."

House nodded tiredly, and Wilson left.


End file.
